


Strangeness and Charm

by whovianmuse



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-12-30 09:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12105408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianmuse/pseuds/whovianmuse
Summary: Set a few months after the events of the film, Newt returns to New York to make good on his promise, and an exceptionally awkward courtship, rife with bad jokes and an inordinate amount of blushing, begins.





	1. Fantastic First Dates

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them. Respective concepts and characters belong to their creator(s). No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> The title was inspired by the song _Strangeness and Charm_ by Florence and the Machine.

• • •

 

            “And then,” Newt says, choking on his laughter, barely able to get the rest of his story out. “ _Then_ , as luck would have it, the monkey grabs a hold of Tina’s cloak and starts shaking her all about, trying to take it off of her. Well, I had to do _something_ , of course. Defend her honor.”

            “What chivalry! He’s your little knight in shining armor, Teenie,” Queenie giggles, clapping a hand over her heart and delighting in the way it makes both Newt and Tina blush and cast their eyes to the floor.

            “Oh yeah, _my hero_ ,” Tina laughs, rolling her eyes. “You know, you didn’t have to _stun_ the monkey, Newt! That guard looked so suspicious…I’m surprised we didn’t get thrown out of the zoo.”

            Queenie raises an eyebrow, looking back and forth between the both of them.

            “I didn’t _stun_ him! It was a simple freezing charm, most commonly used to tame Cornish Pixies,” Newt says, a little defensively.

            “Since when does a freezing charm make soap bubbles come out of someone’s ears?” Tina teases.

            Queenie clasps her hands to her mouth to stifle another round of giggles.

            “It…well… _alright_ , there was a bit of an accident on the ship coming over here, and now my wand’s gone a bit faulty…but my intentions were true, I assure you,” he explains, smoothing out his waistcoat and offering Tina a small smile.

            Without warning, Queenie gasps and playfully smacks her sister on the arm.

            “Tina, you’re so bad!” she laughs, mouth hanging open in shock.

            Tina’s eyes grow wide, cheeks reddening as she realizes what Queenie must’ve just overheard inside her head.

            _Faulty wand…uh oh…I hope that’s not a euphemism for his…_

            Newt cocks his head to the side, clearly confused, staring back and forth between the two of them as he waits for one of them to explain what he’d just missed.

            Queenie opens her mouth, completely devoid of a filter and all too ready to tell Newt about all of the awful, crude thoughts running through her sister’s mind, but Tina aims a swift kick at one of her shins from under the dining room table, and Queenie immediately shuts up.

            “Ah– ow! At…um, freezing charms,” Queenie lies, rubbing her leg and shooting a pointed glare at her sister. “Yeah, Tina’s terrible at them.”

            “Uh huh, I sure am,” Tina mumbles with fake enthusiastic agreement, shuffling leftover potatoes around on her plate and thinking the word _sorry_ really hard at her sister.

            “Oh, well that’s alright,” Newt says, offering Tina an encouraging smile, completely oblivious to the Goldstein sisters’ silent exchange. “You’re quite good at repair spells, though, if today was any indication. _Much_ better than I am. My pocketwatch fell out of my jacket and was smashed to bits, but Tina mended it for me in a heartbeat. I’d wager you could have my wand performing at full capacity if you gave it a go–”

            “Oh my god,” Tina whispers, blushing bright red and hiding her face in her hands.

            “Not that I expect you to tinker with my wand,” Newt backpedals, mistaking Tina’s embarrassment for exasperation, worried that he’d somehow offended her and that his intended compliment had backfired. “With how finicky and complicated wands are, I imagine it would be quite hard–”

            Tina shoots Queenie a desperate look, shouting _help me_ inside her head.

            “Newt, honey,” Queenie says gently, pursing her lips together to keep from bursting out laughing. “How was the rest of your city tour? I want to hear all about it!”

            Taking Queenie’s cue, Newt launches into an animated tale about everything they’d done that day: a lovely stroll through Central Park, admiring the beautiful spring flowers that had just started to bloom, playing with friendly dogs that ran rampant through the park chasing tennis balls and fetch toys, taste-testing pastries and cappuccinos at all the local cafés, touring the Met and whispering criticisms and comparisons of no-maj vs. wizarding artists to one another when the tour guide wasn’t looking, wondering how in the world muggles could possibly be interested in art that just stays still all the time.

            He makes wild gestures with his hands, smiles earnestly, and laughs loudly as he recalls even the smallest of details…details that Tina herself had forgotten as the day had gone on. But Newt had captured everything in his memory, right down to the way she prefers her coffee, and her favorite flavor of pastry. They’d already done so much together, it was hard to believe that Newt had only been there for a grand total of two days. As she watches him, Tina thinks back to the moment Newt had first arrived on her doorstep, holding his fantastic case filled with all manner of magical creatures in one hand, and the letter he’d written her, detailing the time and date of his arrival, clutched in the other.

 _Apparently,_ _the Royal Star Steam Co. travels faster than the post_.

            Without word or warning, he’d handed her a worn and beaten journal with bits of yellowing parchment sticking out at odd ends, filled with scribbled-out passages and brightly-colored ink blotches: his original, one-of-a-kind, handwritten manuscript. _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ had finally been submitted for publication, he’d explained, but he was far too excited to wait for the official printed copies to hit the shelves of Flourish and Blott’s, so the moment Obscurus Books had given him back his original manuscript, he’d rushed off to purchase tickets and boarded the first ship heading out to America.

            “I hope that’s alright,” he’d said, worrying his lower lip. “I suppose I just…got a bit carried away in the excitement of it all, and I didn’t want to keep you waiting on the copy I’d promised you the last time we saw each other. I’d imagine…months would go by and you…well, you’d probably have forgotten all about me by then.”

            “I would never forget you, Newt,” Tina sighed, grinning at him like an idiot and determinedly ignoring Queenie’s unmistakable bought of giggles issuing from the kitchen.

            “But I could never keep your original manuscript. It’s far too–”

            “Oh goodness, you’re absolutely right. Of course you’d want a fresh copy. Not this battered, unintelligible dribble I’ve brought you,” Newt apologized, lowering his eyes in embarrassment and reaching out to take back his book.

            “Precious,” Tina finished, arms wrapped around the worn leather, clutching it close to her heart and cradling it like an occamy egg.

            “Oh,” Newt sighed, looking thoroughly relieved, the tips of his ears growing red.

            They stood there like that for a long while, just staring at one another; Tina in the doorway of her apartment, Newt awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other in the hallway, until Tina finally snapped out of her reverie and welcomed him inside.

            His arrival had been most unexpected.

            Unexpected, but by no means _unwelcome_.

            The moment she saw him standing there with his bright, hopeful eyes, his tousled ginger hair and sunkissed freckles, and his adorable, sheepish grin, all of the feelings she’d been fighting so hard to quell came rushing back. Even after several months spent apart, it felt like no time had passed at all.

            Tina smiles as she watches Newt, ignoring the little tickling sensation at the back of her mind that means Queenie can hear everything she’s thinking, can practically _feel_ every emotion she’s feeling as they all bubble up to the surface. For once, Tina doesn’t fight it, heart swelling in her chest each time Newt’s smile grows impossibly wider. She tells herself that it’s okay to feel this way, to let herself be happy. That she _deserves_ to be happy. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Queenie giving her an encouraging smile.

            “It was truly lovely,” Newt finishes, catching Tina’s gaze and holding it for a moment too long. “But not nearly as lovely as the company.”

            Tina’s face grows hot as she stifles an embarrassing giggle-snort, chastising herself for _giggling_ about a _boy_ like a schoolgirl with a crush.

            An incredibly charming boy.

            Who just told her that she’s lovely.

            _Oh my god._

            “Thank you, Newt. I had a lovely time with you, too,” she says quietly, looking anywhere but at him.

            Newt mumbles something unintelligible, a soft blush creeping into the curves of his cheekbones. His eyes roam the dining room, avoiding the entire corner in which Tina is sitting, along with Queenie’s teasing smile, and taking a sudden intense interest in a small tear in his waistcoat.

            “Well,” Queenie says, breaking the silence and popping up from the dining room table with far too much energy for a person who’d spent the whole day in a cramped little office. “It’s getting late. I should go to bed. Got another long day tomorrow. Which reminds me…are you going into work tomorrow, Tina?”

            “Oh, um. No, actually. I requested some time off this week so I could…you know, since Newt’s here, I thought I should…show him the sights,” Tina finishes rather lamely.

            Queenie hums thoughtfully in response, mumbles, _I’m sure you will_ under her breath as she clears the table with a swift flick of her wand, and then bids them both goodnight, sweeping from the living room.

            Tina opens her mouth several times, poised on the edge of a potential new conversation topic, and then closes it. Newt picks incessantly at the hole in his waistcoat, making it worse. He could fit his whole hand in there now, if he tried. And he does. And now he’s trying to shake it loose, flailing all about, and Tina is laughing at him, pulling out her wand, and releasing him from the unforgiving fabric. Within seconds, she’s mended the hole and his waistcoat looks as good as new.

            “Thank you,” he says with a small, embarrassed smile. “I must remember that spell.”

            Tina smiles and nods, waiting for Newt to say something else, so that the silence won’t keep stretching on. They’re both grown adults, for god’s sake. After everything they’ve been through together, it shouldn’t be _this_ hard to strike up a conversation with him. After all, they’d talked all day long, and had a wonderful time of it. But then, Tina supposes, that’s because they’d been constantly on the move, running from one exhibit to the next, surrounded by all things bright and beautiful, enveloped in the bustling crowds of New York. They’d had a never-ending supply of people and things _to_ talk about. But _now_ …well…here they are, sitting at her dining room table, well past a decent hour in the evening. Just the two of them.

            Tina’s eyes flicker to her bedroom door.

            This is entirely new territory. This is… _a courtship?_

            Tina has a brief moment of panic as she wonders whether or not Newt actually has an interest in pursuing her romantically, or if he just views her as a friend. After all, it’s not like they’ve known each other very long. Two days spent chasing down obscurials and magical creatures and an evil wizard masquerading as her asshole coworker, followed by several months and a whole ocean apart hardly qualifies as the start of a good relationship.

            Then, she reminds herself that this man sitting across the table from her had travelled halfway across the planet just to deliver the original, handwritten copy of his prized book to her, because he couldn’t wait another few weeks for the official printed copies to be published. Tina chances a look over at him, hoping for some kind of a sign. Newt meets her gaze almost instantly, and his lips curve into the most glorious, goofiest smile that Tina has ever seen. Her heart soars and she can’t help but beam back at him, feeling a prickle of warmth beneath the apples of her cheeks.

            Yes, _definitely_ new territory.

            Well, she knows one thing that might help loosen them both up.

            “Nightcap?” Tina asks before her brain can think it through, hopping up in a bouncy imitation of Queenie.

            “Oh! Erm, yes, alright,” Newt agrees hesitantly. He’s not much of a drinker, per se, aside from the occasional two fingers of scotch in an heirloom snifter while he scribbles notes in the margins of his manuscript, but he’ll take any excuse to stay in her company a little while longer.

            “Have you got butterbeer, by any chance?” he asks, thinking fondly of his school trips to Hogsmeade.

            Tina spins around on her heel.

            “Oh, um. No, sorry,” she says, regretfully. “That’s a British drink, right? I’ve never had it myself, but I hear it’s delicious.”

            “It is! Tastes like butterscotch candies,” Newt says with a reminiscent smile.

            “Mmm, that does sound good,” Tina says. “But I’m pretty sure it’d have to be imported, and with the way things are now, it’s hard enough to–”

            “Right, yes, of course. I’d imagine it would be rather difficult to obtain _muggle_ liquor right now, let alone a specialty drink made by our kind,” Newt says thoughtfully. “Yet another backwards law, in my opinion. Doesn’t seem to matter if you’re muggle or magic, this country has a bad habit of banning people from doing as they please.”

            “Yeah, I suppose we do,” Tina laughs nervously.

            “I’ll just…go and see what we _do_ have, then. Um…why don’t you head to the living room and make yourself comfortable? I’ll be out in just a sec,” Tina says, making a beeline for the kitchen cabinets.

            Newt nods in agreement, and wanders out into the living room. His brows furrow as he surveys the seating arrangement, staring back and forth between an armchair and a loveseat for an inordinate amount of time before finally settling onto the far end of the loveseat, hands poised on the ends of his knees as he waits for Tina to return. There’s a bit of clinking, a small shatter, and a murmured curse as Tina repairs a broken teacup, and then a few moments later, she returns, holding two elegant crystal goblets, and a bottle of–

            “Honey wine,” Tina says, holding up the rose-colored bottle. “Elf-made, I think. Queenie got it from a guy at work who’s keen on her. I don’t think she’ll mind if we have a little taste.”

            “I would be delighted,” Newt says, eyes widening in slight trepidation as Tina fills his glass to the brim.

            They sip their wine slowly, the silence cut only when Newt splutters and coughs.       

            “No, no, it’s quite good,” he assures her, banging a hand on his chest. “It just went down the wrong way!”

            “Oh,” Tina says, laughing in relief.

            Newt notices that Tina is still standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, one hand holding onto her wine glass, the other weaving through her short, wavy, brown hair, twisting and untwisting a lock…the same one, he remembers with a little flip of his heart, that he’d tucked behind her ear the day he’d sailed back to England. Not wanting to look foolish, Newt decides that he should probably be standing as well. He pops up from the loveseat and paces back and forth until he settles into a little nook between the wall and the fireplace, resting one elbow upon the mantle.

            As the honey wine swims through their veins, the two of them finally start to loosen up a little, reliving their tour through the art museum, and giggling madly as they recount all the jokes they’d made about the no-maj passersby.

            “And do you remember the one,” Tina says, clutching her stomach as she buckles over in laughter, nearly spilling her third glass of wine. “With the lime green bowler hat? I mean, _come on_ , did he get dressed in the dark or something?”     

            “He must have! It was atrocious,” Newt agrees, chuckling quietly. “Oh, we’re being so catty, but I quite like it.”

            “Me too,” Tina admits, blushing slightly as she remembers the way Newt had leaned in close to whisper in her ear, making her laugh so hard and so loud that the no-majs had given her dirty looks. Normally, she would care about something like that. Normally, it would make her feel self-conscious. She hated breaking rules and disrupting courtesy, but with Newt there, she found that she hardly cared. It was like the rest of the world had fallen away, and it was just the two of them, sharing this fantastic secret that was theirs alone.

            “You’re so easy to talk to,” she says, smiling to herself. “Well, no, actually, you’re not. I mean, I _love_ talking to you, it’s just that normally, you make me kind of nervous. So, you know, the liquor helps.”

            Tina pauses for a moment, replaying what she’d just admitted in her head.     

            “Oh god. Um. Not that I _need_ liquor to talk to you. You’re great on your own. You just…well, you make me feel a little…” Tina trails off, that familiar old blush creeping back into her cheeks.

            “Nervous?” Newt asks with a soft lilt to his voice, caught somewhere between intrigue and concern.

            Tina splutters, choking on the sip of wine she’d taken to try to avoid any more word vomit.

            “I meant that in a good way,” she amends, but no explanation that makes any kind of actual sense comes to mind.

            “I make you nervous in a good way?” Newt teases, an impish smile reminiscent of the Cheshire cat spreading across his face as he reads between the lines and works out what she’d accidentally confessed.

            “Why do I make you nervous, Tina?” he growls softly, his voice like finely aged whiskey curling around every syllable of her name, savoring it like a delicacy. He delights in the way it makes her weak at the knees, smiles even wider when her breath audibly hitches and she bites her lower lip. He doesn’t quite understand why, but somehow, her admission of nervousness had momentarily quelled his own, giving him the push he needed. He sets his wine glass down on the mantelpiece, runs his fingers through his hair, and fixes her with a coquettish smile, his hazel eyes lighting up at the sight of her, wide-eyed and lost for words.

            Tina splutters, swallowing thickly and licking her lips in anticipation as he saunters toward her, a wicked glint in his eyes. He’s fire and mischief and beautiful and impossible and adorable and sexy all at once, and _how the hell_ does this walking contradiction of a man manage to pull that off? _This is it_ , she thinks. He’s going to kiss her, and _oh god_ , there isn’t enough alcohol in the world to calm her nerves right now. She’s been dreaming of this moment for months now, replaying every possible scenario (and, thanks to crippling anxiety, every possible avenue of failure,) in her head, musing over what his lips might taste like. God, the things Queenie must’ve overheard these past few months…

            A wave of panic and excitement floods her chest, heart thundering, palms slick against her wine glass as she struggles to keep hold of it. He’s coming toward her, loosening his bowtie and tugging on the collar of his white button-down shirt until it’s upturned slightly, like he just _knows_ she’s been dying to grab a hold of it and pull him flush against her.

            And then the tip of his boot collides with a snag in the carpeting, and he’s stumbling, knees giving out as he topples over, flailing like a baby giraffe, and crashes face-first onto the floor.

            Tina bursts out laughing; a loud, bellowing roar that rattles her ribcage and makes her spill wine down the front of her blouse. She sets down her glass and sprints toward him, offering a hand to help him up.

            “Oh, Newt, honey. Are you alright?” she asks, giggling uncontrollably, all of the tension and anticipation of kissing this ridiculous man gone, replaced with the comfortable notion that he’s just as nervous and clumsy as she is. It was humbling, really. In a way, it was perfect, just as it’d happened.

            Newt, meanwhile, doesn’t seem to share this sentiment. He lies on the floor, sighing in exasperation, surrendering to gravity and his rotten luck.

            “Right, well,” he says, voice muffled by the fluffy rug. “That’s exactly what I needed, wasn’t it? Face full of carpet.”

            “Not one of your more graceful moments,” Tina says with a sympathetic smile, laughter fading into a lighthearted sigh as she grabs a hold of Newt’s hand and pulls him up off the floor. “But, if it’s possible, you just got even more adorable.”

            “You think I’m adorable?” Newt asks softly, and Tina tenses as she feels his breath sweep across her neck. It’s in that moment that she realizes just how close he’s standing, their chests nearly pressed together as he hovers a mere whisper above her. She chances a look up at him, his eyes bright and hopeful as he stares down at her with a vulnerable intensity. She feels his fingers twitch against her wrist, and remembers that they’re still holding hands. Tina bites her lower lip, and Newt’s eyes follow her every movement.

            _If ever there was a redeeming first kiss moment_ , Tina muses _, this would be it._

            “I should, erm,” Newt quavers, swallowing back several months’ worth of _what-ifs_ , spent wondering what _could have been_ if he’d just–

            Kissed her.

            He should have kissed her.

            And he’s _known_ that he should have kissed her from the moment he’d boarded that ship. But just as he’d reached forward to gently cup her face in his hands, his nerves had gotten the better of him, and after a few seconds’ hesitation, he’d simply tucked back a loose lock of her hair, fingertips ghosting over the side of her face in a dulcet caress. He’d made it halfway to the boarding ramp when he finally convinced himself to double back, resolute with every intention of…well, _asking_ if he could kiss her, honestly, as he didn’t want to be impolite and just assume…

            “So sorry, how would you feel if I–”

            But the tears glistening in her eyes made him feel like he’d just swallowed his own heart, and he’d faltered, falling back on something safe and familiar, forgoing romantic spontaneity and using the publication of his book as a flimsy excuse to come back and see her at some indeterminable time in the future.

            And now, here he was, many months later, arriving on her doorstep unannounced, and he couldn’t even manage to uphold his end of the deal. He thinks of the tattered mess of leather-bound scribbles he’d given Tina in lieu of an actual published book, of how keen and desperate he must have come across, and a furious blush creeps across his cheeks.

            Still, the way she’s looking at him just now…perhaps this isn’t as one-sided as he’d feared. His eyes dance over her every feature, drinking her in; eyes alight with anticipation, lips curved into a euphoric smile. His eyes linger, as they so often do, on her lips; soft, full, lightly reddened from the wine. He wonders if, like the wine, Tina’s lips taste of wildflower honey and cinnamon. He’s so close, he could just–

            Tina’s eyes flutter closed, lips forming a perfect pout, and Newt’s heart stops.

            “It’s late,” he says with a heavy sigh, fumbling with his pocketwatch and pretending to check the time. “I should probably head back to the, er…hotel. Go to bed, as it were.”

            “Mmm,” Tina says, smile wilting as Newt steps back out of her personal space and begins to collect his things. He’s all talk, he knows, wavering from foolhardy bursts of confidence to waxing and waning uncertainty in a manner of seconds. He tells himself that it just isn’t the right moment, that it needs to be something _bigger_ and _better_ than midnight in the middle of Tina’s living room after a few glasses of wine. That a woman like Tina deserves fireworks, and candlelight, and, if he thought he could actually manage it, the moon on a string. He’s been planning this moment in his head for months, and it needs to be perfect.

            “But I should like to see you tomorrow, if you’ll have me?” he asks with a tentative, hopeful smile.

            _If you’ll have me._

            An electric shiver runs down Tina’s spine at those words, but before her mind can wander into dangerous territory again, she quickly dismisses that train of thought.

            “I would be delighted,” she says, smiling brightly. “Meet me outside this building around 9 o’clock? We can stop by Jacob’s bakery for breakfast.”

            “Oh!” Newt exclaims, perking up at the mention of his dear friend. “Does he…I mean to say, did the memory spell–”

            “No,” Tina sighs, heart breaking a little as Newt’s cheerful expression wavers. “But Queenie and I are regulars! We’re in and out of there all the time…well, her more so than me. He…he knows us only as his loyal customers now. But he seems happy.”

            “Of course.” Newt smiles wistfully. “All is as it should be, I suppose.”

            “Still, I thought you might like to see him,” Tina says, offering him a small, encouraging smile.

            “Absolutely. It’s not often you get a second chance at a first impression,” Newt says, pulling his jacket up around his shoulders as he prepares to take his leave. He inclines his head in a small bow. “Well then, Miss Goldstein, until tomorrow.”

            “Goodnight, Newt,” Tina says, memorizing the affectionate smile he gives her, right before he turns on his heel and twists out of sight. Tina stands there for a moment, watching the spot he’d just vanished from for a bit longer than she’d care to admit. After a few moments, she sighs and shakes her head, plunking down onto the worn, cozy cushions of her favorite armchair, and making a never-ending checklist of all the reasons _why_ the ever-charming Newt Scamander makes her so nervous.


	2. A Magical Catalyst

            Thursday evening of the following week finds Tina reclining in her favorite plushy armchair, after yet another long day back at the Auror Office. She’s all curled up with the original copy of Newt’s manuscript, fully immersed in the chapter on different breeds of dragons, smiling to herself as she skims over his crossed out commentary and witty annotations. She thinks back to their second date just a few days prior, how they’d spent the entire afternoon having a lovely picnic inside Newt’s case, surrounded by an array of curious creatures, and wonders, with a terrified jolt, if Newt has got any fully-grown dragons roaming around in there. Tina shivers as a gust of chilly spring air wafts through an open window, and pulls her knitted blanket up around her shoulders, warming her sock-clad feet by a little glass jar filled with magically conjured bluebell flames that float in mid-air.

            Which nearly shatters to the floor when the door to her apartment bursts open, and in bounds Queenie, shouting, “He remembers! He remembers!”, her wild blonde curls bouncing around all over her head.

            Tina slowly gets to her feet, fixing her sister with a curious expression as she waits for her to explain. Instead, Queenie hops over to where Tina is and picks her up off the floor, swinging her around in a dizzying hug.

            “Teenie, he remembers! Can you believe it?” she giggles merrily, though her words are muffled in the sleeves of Tina’s pyjamas.

            “ _Mercy Lewis_ , Queenie, when did you get so strong?” Tina laughs in spite of herself, struggling in her sister’s vice-like grip. “Mind putting me down for a minute and telling me what the hell’s going on?”

            “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” Queenie says, popping Tina back down and attempting to smooth out her ruffled shirt, just like their mother used to do. “I got a little carried away.”

            “So, what’s the big news?” Tina asks, swatting Queenie’s hands away and slouching back down into her armchair. She figures she’d better settle in for the long haul. Queenie’s stories tended to go on a bit…quite like Newt’s, she muses fondly.

            “Focus, Tina,” Queenie says, though her tone is playful rather than scolding. She takes a deep breath and settles onto the loveseat across from Tina, hands fluttering to her knees, poised and pausing for dramatic effect.

            “Okay, well…you know how I’ve been stopping by Jacob’s bakery every Tuesday and Thursday for the past couple of months?” Queenie begins, incapable of reigning in the magnificent smile that spreads across her lips. Tina gives Queenie a look of impatience, and Queenie sighs.

            “Yes, I’m well aware that you don’t approve, Teenie, now shush and let me tell my story,” Queenie huffs, smile faltering for a split-second before she resumes.

            “Well, anyway. We’ve sort of fallen into this cute little routine: I come in, he gets this big, adorable grin on his face. We chat about the weather, maybe dabble in no-maj politics for a little. He tells jokes, I laugh. He fixes me coffee just the way I like it…always remembers to add two spoonfuls of cream and three sugars…and then he lets me try a sample of his newest pastry. We flirt a little…okay, _a lot_ …and then I tell him I’ll see him next week. Blow him a kiss, he pretends to catch it. It’s real nice. And it’s worked pretty well for us over the past couple of months, but…” Queenie trails off, biting her lower lip to hide a mischievous smirk.

            “Well, today _felt_ different. You know how some days just _feel_ different? And I knew he wanted to, because I could hear him thinking it over and over in his head, you know? _Just kiss her, just kiss her_. So I did. I decided, _to hell with morals_ , and I kissed him!”

            Tina claps a hand to her mouth, trying her damnedest to hold back a smile that threatens to break her resolve. Because _this_ is their normal. This is Queenie, talking to her sister about a boy she likes. This is what they _do._ This is what they’ve always done from the time they were kids. They’d make popcorn and share all the little details and giggle like schoolgirls. But–

            _This is wrong,_ Tina reminds herself. They aren’t kids anymore, and this isn’t just some boy. This is a _no-maj_ boy. No, sorry. A fully-grown adult _man_ who, as far as she knows, doesn’t have a single drop of magical blood in his entire body, and who has seen entirely too much of the magical community. This breaks _so many laws_.

            “I know. I know it does. But it’s okay, because MACUSA…well, _Newt_ , actually…already cast that memory spell on the whole city. So this is kind of like a loophole, really,” Queenie says, taking a deep breath and offering her sister a small, reassuring smile.

            “I don’t know how, but he remembered, Teenie. From the moment I kissed him again, he remembered everything.”

            “Everything?” Tina asks, wincing.

            “ _Everything_. Me. You. Newt. All of Newt’s crazy creatures. The obscurial. The thunderbird. Me kissing him in the rain just before we said goodbye. All of it.”

            Queenie pauses for a moment, letting Tina process everything she’d just said. Sensing her sister’s impending trepidation, Queenie reaches for Tina’s hand, stroking the top of it gently. Tina looks up at her, traces of anger and panic flashing across her eyes, but immediately softens at the look of hope and pleading etched in Queenie’s every feature.

            “He loves me, Tina,” she says, eyes darting down to stare at her lap while she fiddles nervously with the drawstrings of her purse.

            “The moment he remembered, he told me so. And the way he looked at me…oh, it was just wonderful. I’ve never felt like that with anyone before. He told me he thought of me every day. Dreamed about my face. Told me he thought I was some kind of angel made real the day I walked into his shop,” Queenie sighs, a beautiful smile lighting up her face.

            “I’m happy, honey,” she says softly. “Jacob makes me happy.”

            Tina purses her lips, mulling it all over, and privately cursing Newt for his reckless actions just a few days prior. Because really, this whole situation was _entirely his fault._

 

 • • •

 

            Tina had only taken her eyes off of Newt for a mere ten seconds, but in that time, he’d managed to tip a vial of some strange, glistening, silver liquid into Jacob’s morning coffee, and pocket it before anyone but Tina could notice what he’d done.

            Internally screaming, Tina bit her tongue and watched with a strained smile and unbridled scrutiny as Newt cheerfully chatted Jacob up about his Demiguise-shaped cookies. Then, she’d paid for her sourdough loaf with a curt nod and a promise to come back the following week, making a mental note to check in on Jacob regularly and make sure that whatever Newt had slipped him wouldn’t have any adverse effects. Once they were a few blocks out of earshot, she’d rounded on Newt, hissing at him like an angry goose.

            “What the hell was that?” she’d asked, anger burning behind her dark brown eyes.

            “I’ve no idea what you’re–” Newt began, feigning innocence.

            “Don’t play dumb with me, Newt. I know you put something in Jacob’s coffee. What was it?”

            “It’s nothing,” Newt said with a casual wave of his hand. “Coffee creamer, that’s all. Thought Jacob might like to try a new flavor.”

            “Uh huh. Sure,” Tina said, rolling her eyes. “What flavor is _glittery_ and _silver_?”

            “Certain…erm…vanilla bean varieties?” Newt offered with a sheepish smile.

            “Newt,” Tina warned, staring daggers at him.

            Newt swallowed thickly. Never in his life had he thought he’d come across a creature more dangerous and terrifying when they’re angry than a Hungarian Horntail.

            Clearly, he’d been wrong.

            “It’s just a little potion I’ve been working on,” Newt admitted reluctantly, sighing in defeat. “Purely experimental, I assure you. Nothing more than a fleeting fancy. Probably won’t work at all.”

            “What _kind_ of potion?” Tina demanded, each word laced with venom.

            “I may have…erm…found a way to reverse the effects of the Swooping Evil memory potion,” he said with a nervous chuckle, wincing in preparation for an onslaught of _how could you_ and _do you have any idea how irresponsible this is_? But Tina merely stared at him, wide-eyed with disbelief, so Newt took advantage of her silence and carried on, tripping over his own words in a rush to get out a proper explanation before Tina could come to her senses and start yelling at him.

            “You see, Swooping Evil venom only erases _bad_ memories, and while Jacob had his fair share that night, he also had quite a few good memories. I daresay the good far outweighed the bad, especially when we factor in his feelings for your sister.”

            Tina glared at him and crossed her arms, lips pursed on the edge of an argument.

            “It’s different from Obliviating someone,” Newt explained hurriedly. “It doesn’t quite have the same damaging, irreversible effects as a memory charm. The good memories, well, they never _truly_ vanish…they leave behind little traces, here and there. They come to Jacob in the form of dreams, in familiar faces he could swear he’s never met, in a small prickle at the back of his neck as the murtlap bite fades to a scar.”

            “And, well…good memories…that is to say, the emotional connection we have to them…that’s a very powerful thing. Those emotions, all of that happiness and excitement and love that we feel…it _can_ transcend magic. Sometimes, it can make impossible things happen,” Newt said with a small, wistful smile.

            “Which is why this particular memory revitalizing potion will need a powerful, activating event with a strong, emotional connection in order for it to work. A magical catalyst, if you will. You see, it’s not enough for Jacob to simply ingest the potion…no, it’s far more complicated than that. Something else needs to happen…something big and important that’s strong enough to trigger that part of Jacob’s brain that has locked away all of those memories.”

            “And,” Tina said, having finally found her voice again, “….and you have no idea what that event could be?”

            “Your guess is as good as mine,” Newt said sadly, shaking his head. “It’s very unlikely that anything will actually come of it.”

            “Okay….well, that’s… _okay_ ,” Tina sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples with her fingertips. This was the _last_ thing she needed right now, on top of everything else. She paced back and forth along the sidewalk, thinking it all over while Newt watched her with hopeful determination. Finally, she turned on her heel and walked toward Newt with a renewed sense of purpose.

            “Okay, here’s the thing. What you did was incredibly careless,” Tina said with a half-assed attempt at a reprimand. “If any part of your _experiment_ goes wrong, you could seriously hurt Jacob, _and_ risk the exposure of the entire magical community in America.”

            “I know,” Newt said, bowing his head in shame. “I know, it was stupid and impulsive of me. I’m incredibly sorry, I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I just wanted–”

            “You just wanted your friend back,” Tina sighed softly, instinctively reaching out for Newt’s hand in a comforting gesture, her anger fading as quickly as it had come.

            “I just don’t think that it’s fair to deny Jacob the right to his own memories,” Newt replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

            “I…I suppose that’s...” Tina faltered, logic and sympathy at war inside her head.

            Newt took a hold of Tina’s hand and looked into her eyes, disarming her with a genuine, bittersweet smile.

            “Tina, I am truly sorry,” he said solemnly. “I didn’t mean to put you, or your country, or your job at risk. I know you’ve said that it’s against the law in this country, and my opinion on the matter can’t change that. It was just a silly idea I had, but believe me, I’m certain that nothing will come of it. In a week, the potion will be out of his system, and by then, it won’t even matter if some grand, life-changing event happens to him.”

            “A magical catalyst,” Tina said with a teasing smirk.

            “Quite so,” Newt said with a curt nod.

            “Which, in all likelihood, will probably never happen?”

            “Next to impossible.”

            “You’re sure?”

            “95% certain.”

            “And the other 5%?”

            “Pure guesswork and optimism.”

            Tina paused, scrutinizing his expression carefully.

            “Alright,” she said after a minute. “You’re in the clear… _for now_.”

            Newt gave her a small smile, which she hesitantly returned. They stood there for a short while, letting the dust settle. Newt pursed his lips, apparently lost in thought.

            “Tina,” he said after a moment. “How often would you say Queenie visits Jacob’s bakery?”

            “Oh um…every Tuesday and Thursday, I think. Why?” Tina asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

            “Just curious,” Newt replied with an air of casual indifference, offering Tina his arm and leading her toward Central Park for another adventure-packed day of exploring the city.

 • • •

 

_And really_ , Tina considers as she sits across from her bright-eyed, love-struck sister, _that should have been her second warning._

            Tina sighs, chastising herself for getting so caught up in the moment, in the wondrous world inside Newt’s case, and in his stupid, charming smile, to stop and _think_ and take his impulsive actions more seriously. But then, how could she have possibly known that a simple kiss could be the _powerful, activating event_ needed to complete the potion’s effects? It’s pure _hogwash_ , the stuff of fairy tales, myths, and legends.

            And yet, it had worked. One kiss had been powerful enough to restore Jacob’s memories and bring him and Queenie back together. And now that they’ve found each other, Tina has a nagging suspicion that Queenie will do everything in her power to make sure that Jacob never has to forget her ever again.

            A million and one perfectly logical reasons as to why Jacob and Queenie _shouldn’t_ be together race through Tina’s mind, building and building like a monstrous mountain of fear and anxiety, threatening an avalanche…

            And then, all at once, they stop, crumbling to bits at a few carefully chosen words…at the one phrase that will always, _always_ make something so potentially dangerous so entirely worth it.

            _I’m happy._

            A cascade of memories floods Tina’s mind: the look on Queenie’s face when she realized she’d have to let Jacob go, their tearful goodbye as she’d kissed him in the thunderbird’s storm, wiping away stray tears and insisting that she’s _fine_ as she wore a tight little smile that didn’t quite reach her red-rimmed eyes, the way she’d perk up at the mere mention of the word _no-maj_ in passing conversation as she flitted from department to department each day at work, had all but locked herself away in the apartment in the evenings, playing the same four melancholy records on repeat and sighing heavily as she stared into nothingness and absentmindedly stirred a cup of cocoa.

            And then, the way she’d looked when she finally found Jacob, thriving at his new bakery, and had gone to see him for the first time in months.

            It’s enough to seal Tina’s decision.

            After all, wouldn’t she feel the same way if a certain English wizard had had the misfortune of being born a no-maj?

            She gives her sister’s hand an affectionate squeeze, a small smile spreading across her lips as she looks up and says, “Then I’m happy for you.”

            And she means it, genuinely.

            Queenie gives Tina an excited squeal, tackling her sister into another hug and shaking her all about, eyes sparkling with tears as she pulls back and delves into a starry-eyed soliloquy.

            “Do you know what this means? It means that true love is _real._ That all those stories mom and dad used to read to us about knights in shining armor and princesses and true love’s kiss breaking curses and conquering evil really do exist! And I’ve found it, Teenie. I have found true love,” Queenie sighs dreamily, staring off into the distance like the heroine on the front cover of a romance novel.

_Or a memory potion, slipped into Jacob’s morning coffee,_ Tina smirks, thankful that Queenie is too lost in her own thoughts to have heard her think it.

            “Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you,” Queenie says, jumping up excitedly and wiping a stray tear from her eyes.

            “Jacob was thrilled when he found out that Newt’s back in town. Says he wants to take us all out to celebrate this Saturday night. A proper double-date. What do you think, Teenie? Will you ask Mr. Scamander if he’s free?”

            Tina freezes, a number of potentially horrible situations involving the entire investigative division of MACUSA hunting them down ( _again_ ) fighting for first place in her mind. But then a particularly adorable image of Newt’s face, ecstatic that his memory-reviving potion had worked and that he’s got his old friend back swims before her, and she can’t help but smile. Tina sighs, giving in, and says, “Of course I will. I’m sure he’d love that.”


	3. New York City Serenade

            Jacob Kowalski stands outside of a magnificent brownstone at 679 West 24th Street at a quarter to 8 o’clock the following Saturday evening, periodically glancing down at his pocket-watch and whistling a jaunty tune. He smoothes out the wrinkles in his dark gray suit and adjusts his pastel pink tie, panicking for a brief moment that he hadn’t spritzed on enough cologne to mask the myriad of fruity, fragrant pies he’d been baking earlier that day.

            Not that his Queenie would mind.

            Jacob sighs happily at the thought of her. He can say, with absolute certainty, that this past week had been one of the best of his entire life. Though it’d been a mere two days since the most beautiful woman in the world had kissed him and changed the course of his life forever, he was surprised at how quickly he was adjusting to the concept of…well, there was no other way to put it… _magical folk_ living secretly among them.

            He gets a jolt of excitement just thinking about it.

            Just then, a strange clinking sound coming from behind him startles Jacob out of his daydream, and he quickly whips around.

            “Newt!” he shouts, lips breaking into a magnificent smile as he’s met with the most eccentric-looking man he’s ever seen, his impossible, bigger-on-the-inside suitcase in tow. Newt mimics Jacob’s grin and trots toward him, arms thrown out with wild abandon as he forgoes common courtesy and encompasses Jacob in a big friendly bear hug, their suitcases clattering together.

            “Great to see you, buddy,” Jacob says as he gingerly pats Newt on the shoulder, mildly bemused at having been hugged as a way of a greeting. But then, that’s Newt Scamander for you.

            “And you as well! Welcome back, old friend. I thought we’d seen the last of you,”  
Newt says, drawing back and shaking Jacob’s hand enthusiastically.

            “Nah, can’t get rid of me that easily,” Jacob laughs as he struggles to untangle their suitcases.

            “Oh goodness, I’m terribly sorry about your traveling bag,” Newt says, making sure that neither of their cases had been scuffed in the collision.

            “Don’t worry about it,” Jacob says, waving a hand dismissively. “As long as we don’t mix ’em up and I end up with another murtlap bite, I’m alright.”

            “True enough,” Newt chuckles softly, and then a thought occurs to him. He tilts his head to the side, surveying his friend with a curious expression.

            “Jacob, why _did_ you bring your suitcase? And yes, before you say anything, I know it’s a pot-calling-the-kettle-black type of situation, because obviously, I’ve brought mine as well, but after the fiasco that happened last time, I think you’ll agree that I couldn’t very well leave it in my hotel room for the turn-down service to stumble upon. But…well…I mean…you’re a _baker_ , aren’t you? Your profession isn’t exactly _dangerous_. So why have you brought your suitcase along on a double-date?”

            “Oh! No, it’s not a work thing. Here, let me show you,” Jacob says, propping the brown leather case onto his knee and opening the latches. A delicious aroma wafts into the night air, surrounding them in sugary goodness.

            “I brought a few pastries over for the girls. Figured they might want something sweet before dinner,” Jacob explains, waving a hand across the large assortment of gingerbread cookies, mini apple strudels, blueberry tarts, and–

            “Strawberry peach cobbler, for Queenie,” Jacob says, lips curving into a gleeful grin. “It’s kind of our thing. I keep inventing new flavor combinations for her to try.”

            “I’m sure she’ll love them,” New says with an encouraging smile. His eyes rove the contents of the case, catching sight of something awfully familiar, buried under a mountain of bread and sugar.

            “Is that–”

            “Yup,” Jacob says before Newt can even ask, digging out the Niffler-shaped cookie, covered in dark chocolate and shimmering gold frosting.

            “Brought something special for you, too. What do you think?”

            Newt smiles gleefully, accepting the cookie as Jacob hands it to him and taking a rather large bite out of the side of it.

            “Oh, that’s absolutely delightful,” Newt replies through a mouthful of icing.

            “Ehh, it’s all thanks to you, really. I never would have gotten started if you hadn’t given me those occamy shells as collateral,” Jacob says, gratitude etched in his every feature.

            “It’s the least I could do after all you’d done to help me…to help _us_ , really. You’re very brave, Jacob. Had you gone to Hogwarts, you would’ve made Gryffindor proud. Or Hufflepuff, for that matter,” Newt says, smiling cheerfully.

            Jacob gives him a quizzical look, about to ask what the hell a _Gryffinpuff_ is, but then Newt takes another bite of the cookie, and starts showering him with compliments again.

            “Marvelous,” he mumbles, cookie crumbs falling out of his mouth and onto the lapels of his jacket. “Jacob, you’re going to make a fortune selling these!”

            “Not to mention those mini strawberry peach cobblers,” Queenie chimes in cheerily, waving at the both of them from the open doorway at the top of the porch.

            Newt and Jacob turn in unison, stunned to silence as they take in the sight of their dates. Queenie, all dolled up in a blush pink dress and dusty rose shawl, her honey blonde curls styled to perfection, giggles as she catches Jacob’s eye, and pushes the door aside to let her sister through.

            Tina smiles timidly as she leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms over her chest, swathed in a low-cut champagne dress and a navy blue duster, chocolate brown hair styled in loose waves that frame her heart-shaped face.

            “You look…erm,” Newt says, fumbling for the right words as he gazes up at her. “What I mean to say is, you’re very…and your _dress_ is quite…”

            “I sure hope the ends of those sentences are good,” Tina laughs, catching his eye for a moment before glancing down at the ground and blushing a brilliant shade of red.

            “They most certainly are,” Newt chuckles softly, smiling at Tina’s teasing and gaining a bit more confidence at the sight of her rosy complexion. It’s moments like these, little reminders that he makes her just as nervous as she makes him, that give Newt the nudge he needs. He chances a glance up at her, a little half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he sighs and says, “You look beautiful, Tina.”

            “Thank you, Newt,” she says, smiling brightly as she strolls down the stone steps. One moment, she’s the very essence of poise and grace, silken dress twirling elegantly around her figure as she sways her hips, until a gust of wind whips past them and her heel catches on a divot in the granite. She propels forward and collides into Newt, who catches her with open arms.

            “I must admit,” Newt says with a breathy chuckle, lips parted slightly in a cross between amusement, surprise, and delight. “Of all the ways I’d dreamed of you falling for me, I never expected that it would play out quite so literally.”

            The two of them stand there for a moment, stark still as though they’d been placed under a stunning spell, eyes locked on one another’s in a dumbfounded daze, until Tina bursts out laughing, followed shortly by Queenie and Jacob.

            “That was,” Tina says, catching her breath. “Wow, I can’t even decide if that was great, or one of the worst lines I’ve ever heard.”

            Newt merely shrugs and offers her a sheepish smile.

            “Thank you for catching me, Newt,” she whispers, lacing her arms around his shoulders and placing a swift, sweet kiss to his cheek, which promptly burns red at her touch, illuminating a smattering of freckles that dapple the bridge of his nose.

            “Any time,” he replies, pressing his forehead against hers and gazing into her eyes. Tina giggles softly and bites her lower lip. Newt mirrors her, eyes tracing the curves of her mouth as he sighs with blissful longing. For a moment, it’s just the two of them, standing in the middle of the serene city sidewalk, bathed in moonlight and the golden glow of the streetlamps. And then there’s a soft little hum from behind them, patient but firm, reminding them that they’re not alone.

            They break apart with embarrassed smiles and faint blushes, pretending to smooth out nonexistent wrinkles in their clothing. Luckily, the awkward silence lasts only a moment longer, until Jacob comes to the rescue, pulling out his suitcase and showing the girls all of the tasty confections he’d brought over for them to try.

            “That blueberry tart is to die for,” Tina says, licking glaze off of the tips of her fingers.

            “Along with the apple,” Newt agrees, stifling a cough as he swallows a larger portion of the pastry than he’d meant to.

            “My vote is still with the strawberry peach cobbler,” Queenie says, leaning over and giving Jacob a kiss on the cheek, who smiles like he’s just won the lottery. “But then, I suppose I’m a little bit biased. I love everything you make, honey. Thank you for bringing them over. You’re so good to us.”

            “Anything for you girls,” he says cheerfully, closing the latches of his case and heaving it back down to his side. He jiggles it slightly, frowning.

            “Oh, and don’t worry about carrying your case around all night. You can keep it up in our apartment if you want,” Queenie adds, soothing Jacob’s concerned thoughts.

            “Actually, yeah, that’d be great,” he says, offering Queenie his suitcase. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

            The last word is barely out of his mouth before she’s twisted out of sight in a flurry of gold and pink, and then reappeared about an inch to the left, no more than twenty seconds later. A squeaky, high-pitched laugh escapes Jacob’s mouth. Newt and Tina’s eyes meet, and they both giggle. Newt then glances down at his own suitcase, lips twitching into a frown.

            “Tina,” Newt says suddenly, turning toward her. “Would you mind very much if I kept my case in your apartment for the evening as well? I daresay it would be far safer at your place than at my hotel.”

            “Sure,” Tina agrees, looking to her sister, who nods encouragingly.

            “Jacob’s is in the kitchen,” Queenie answers before she can ask.

            “Oh okay, good. So I’ll just pop up there and put Newt’s in our bedroom, then.”

            “Perfect. Thank you,” Newt says, carefully handing her his suitcase, which she cradles like a baby bird. With a sound like a whip cracking, Tina disappears into thin air, reappearing in the same exact spot only a few seconds later, a little bit breathless, the curls of her hair slightly ruffled.

            “All taken care of,” Tina says with a confident smile, before taking Newt’s proffered arm and strolling down the street.

            “Amazing,” Jacob says, starry-eyed as he stares back and forth between the three of them. “I’m never gonna get used to this.”

            Queenie giggles and slips her arm through Jacob’s, tugging him along as she follows her sister up the moonlit sidewalk.

            The four of them weave their way through the winding streets of New York until they arrive at a quaint little muggle-owned restaurant, nestled in between a cigar shop and a cozy café. They settle in at a big table in the back and share half a dozen appetizers, four entrées, and two bottles of wine, shielded by a covertly cast _muffliato_ spell as they recount the story of how they all met.

            “So I’m watching Newt do this ridiculous mating dance, right?” Jacob laughs heartily, fork clattering against his half-eaten steak. “And then this…I think it was some kind of a seal? I don’t know. Anyway, it throws something at me, and I spill the pheromones, or musk, or whatever it was, all over the place, and then–”

            “And then the erumpent decides she’s had well enough of me, and starts chasing after Jacob,” Newt finishes through a mouthful of cheesecake. “So of course, I’ve got to after them, but then, wouldn’t you know it, a monkey steals my wand!”

            “Meanwhile, I’m hanging upside down from a tree, and this thing’s just injected some kind of hot lava or something into the trunk,” Jacob says with a wry smile.

            Tina and Queenie burst out laughing as Newt mimes Jacob and the erumpent slipping and sliding across the splintering, icy surface of the lake, suitcase planted firmly over the erumpent’s rear as he’d tried to shove her back inside.

            “But not before she’d licked my face,” Jacob adds, wiping phantom erumpent spittle from his cheek.

            “So this erumpent,” Queenie says, patting Jacob’s arm. “Is she pretty? Come on, I’ve got to know what competition I’m up against.”

            Which of course sets them all off laughing again.

            “What a delightful evening,” Newt says, beaming around at his company. “I’d like to propose a toast, if you would all be so inclined.”

            With a careful flick of his wand, concealed underneath the table, Newt fills up each of their glasses with bubbling, golden champagne. Jacob stares wide-eyed at his glass, picking it up and marveling at it as though not quite convinced that it’s real.

            “To the wonderful friendships forged over the course of those days, and to many more adventures that await us in future,” Newt proclaims as the four of them raise their glasses in unison. “And although I’m fit to bursting from this incredible dinner, I must say, I’m not quite ready for this evening to end.”

            There’s a murmur of agreement as they all think of what they should do next.

            “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m dying to get another glimpse of a magical speakeasy,” Jacob chimes in, excitement lighting up his eyes.

            “Oh yes, that’s a wonderful idea!” Queenie exclaims.

            “As long as it’s not the one we went to last time, I’m in,” Tina says, grimacing at the memory of MACUSA chasing them down.

            “Absolutely,” Newt agrees, frowning. “I’d sooner eat my own socks than have another run-in with Gnarlak.”

            Tina chokes on the last of her champagne, snorting at Newt’s joke.

            “I’m still mad at him for turning us in,” she says, scrunching up her nose.

            “And for taking Pickett,” Newt adds.

            “Oh, that’s right! Poor thing, that was heartbreaking.”

            “I’m fairly certain he’s _still_ cross with me for that, actually…but yes, a different nightclub. That sounds like fun,” Newt says, perking up.

            “And I know just the place,” Tina says, turning toward her sister as they both say its name in unison.

            “Perfect!” Queenie says, bubbling over with excitement.

            “We’re gonna take you boys out to one of our favorite spots. We used to go to _The Tipsy Pixie_ all the time during the summer holidays. You’ll love it. Open all night. Best giggle water in the city. There’s _always_ a live band, and the music is fabulous. Oh! Oh! And there’s _dancing_. Gosh, Teenie, how long has it been since we’ve gone dancing?”

            “Not nearly long enough,” Tina groans, offering her sister a teasing smirk. At Newt’s questioning look, she leans in to his side and whispers, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

            “Well then,” he says, chuckling softly, “that’s one more thing we have in common.

 

 • • •

 

            By the time they arrive, tap the magically set bricks in the right order, and give the secret password to the enchanted graffiti painted across the seemingly solid brick wall, it’s past ten o’clock and _The Tipsy Pixie_ is packed. Queenie, working her own mysterious brand of magic, parts the crowd easily and makes her way back from the bar with four shots of giggle water, which they all down with a chant of _1-2-3_ followed by raucous laughter. After a few more rounds of drinks at their small, round, wobbly table by the stage, Queenie pulls Jacob out onto the dance floor, giggling as he stumbles about in an attempt to keep up with her.            Newt catches Tina’s eye and smiles.

            “You have to admit,” he says, gently prodding Tina with his elbow. “They’re quite adorable.”

            “They do grow on you,” Tina concedes, tipping her empty glass in their direction, and watching as Jacobs spins Queenie around in a pirouette before pulling her back into his arms.

            “So…erm…are you still cross with me for giving Jacob that memory reviving potion, then?” Newt asks tentatively, reaching for her hand and rubbing circles across her palm in what he hopes is a gentle and soothing manner. Tina genuinely thinks about that for a moment, mentally replaying the conversation she’d had with Queenie just two days prior.

            “No,” she sighs, lacing her fingers with Newt’s and giving his hand an affectionate squeeze. “I’m glad you did. I’ve never seen Queenie so happy.”

            “They certainly do seem like a perfect fit,” Newt replies, smiling down at the sight of Tina’s hands entwined with his own. Tina beams up at him.

            “And,” he adds after a beat, a wicked glint gleaming in his eyes as he sweeps from the table and stands beside Tina with his arms outstretched. “As awful as we both claim to be, I will not allow us to be wallflowers tonight. Come and dance with me, Tina. Let’s be awful and awkward together.”

            Tina purses her lips, surveying Newt with cautious amusement.

            “Oh, what the hell,” she laughs, taking Newt’s hand and allowing him to whisk her away to the dance floor.

            It takes them a few tries, a few rounds of tangled limbs and slippery shoes and near-fatal collisions with the very disgruntled barkeep, but somehow, their own brands of incredibly bad dancing end up working surprisingly well together. The hours of the evening blend together in a blissful blur, music thrumming with vibrating brass and reverberating strings, matching the fast-paced beat of their thundering hearts, laughter echoing across the smoky, crowded dance hall as they twirl and spin, always winding their way back into each other’s arms, faces flushed pink and hair wild. And all throughout the night, Newt can’t take his eyes off of her, gazing at her like she’s a work of art, enamored by the way she moves, graceful even in her self-conscious stumbling, in the way she turns their innate clumsiness into a thing of eloquent beauty. In that moment, she is _everything_ , and he can’t believe his incredible luck that he gets to be with her.


	4. Hedonistic Veritaserum

            They’re not entirely sure how they make it out of the nightclub and back to Tina’s apartment, but they’re quite certain that a few more shots of giggle water had been involved. Shushing each other so loudly that it practically defeats the point, they make their way up the spiral staircase to Tina’s floor, stumbling along in the shadow-swept corridor, tripping over uneven patches of carpeting and colliding into each other in a bout of hushed giggles.

            As they’re rounding another corner, Newt stumbles over his own feet and bashes his knees into the banister, yelping out in pain. Within seconds, a door bursts open from the floor below, and a woman’s voice calls out, concerned for her tenants. A shot of adrenaline spikes through Newt’s chest like a bolt of lightning, making his head spin and lighting up every nerve ending in his body like a live wire. Tina’s eyes grow wide, and without thinking, she shoves Newt up against the corridor wall and clamps a hand over his mouth, whispering frantically for him to keep quiet. Mrs. Esposito calls out into the darkened hallway yet again, makes a few empty threats to a nonexistent burglar, and then sighs exasperatedly, murmuring something about apartment 3B’s trouble-making tabby cats, before going back inside and shutting her door.

            Tina breathes a sigh of relief and drops her hands to her sides. Newt gives her a disgruntled look, rubs at his left shoulder, and dramatically mouths the word _ouch_. Tina offers him an apologetic smile and mouths back _sorry._ He means to tell her it’s fine, that he was only joking. He’s halfway through a teasing eye-roll and a hearty chuckle when his gaze drops down between them, and all rational thought leaves his mind. His breath hitches in his throat as he takes in the sight of her, hair a wild mess of chocolate brown curls, champagne dress a luminescent silver in the glow of the moonlight, the silken fabric clinging to her slender figure, every curve of her body perfectly aligned with his. She’s a whirlwind of beauty and heavenly aromas: sweet, soothing vanilla with a hint of jasmine and a twist of tea leaves, a subtle blend of fragrances brought to life by the pulse points on her wrists and neck.

            That last lingering glimmer of giggle water swims through Newt’s veins like a cocktail of euphoria and giddiness. Newt swallows thickly, heart hammering in his chest as Tina boldly closes the miniscule distance left between them, gasping softly as she shifts against him and feels the rapidly growing hardness of him pressed against her inner thigh. He chances a look up at her, delighting in the way her lips curve into a devilish smirk, in the way her hands close around the lapels of his jacket, urging him closer.

            And maybe it’s the giggle water, or the look in Tina’s eyes, or some dangerous combination of the two that finally lights the fuse, but for a moment, Newt forgets himself in favor of desires he’s tried so hard to quell. In one swift, fluid motion, he’s snaked an arm around her waist and pinned her against the corridor wall in his place, pressing his lips against hers and devouring her soft little gasp of surprise in a spectacular kiss. With a triumphant laugh and a whispered shout of _finally_ , Tina wraps her arms around Newt’s shoulders, weaving her fingers through his tousled mess of hair and tugging ever so gently, reveling in the way it evokes a low, feral growl from the back of his throat.

            “Tina,” he whispers, and she swears her name has never sounded so sweet.

            “You are _so_ incredibly beautiful,” he confesses, punctuating each word with a delicate kiss along the curves of her collarbones.

            After what feels like ages, Newt and Tina draw back for air, breathless and grinning like mad, hair mussed and faces flushed deeper than wine. In between hushed giggles and half-hearted shushing, they wind their way up the stairs, chasing after one another and stealing kisses every few paces as they barrel through Tina’s front door and burst into the living room.

            Once inside, Tina slips out of her coat and throws it haphazardly over the back of the couch, flitting from room to room, extinguishing lights and tidying up as she goes about her usual nighttime routine. Newt, unsure of how best to proceed, stands there in the middle of the darkened living room, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of his jacket, all but frozen to the spot as he watches her. She moves so fast, and it’s all rather dizzying.

            “Tina,” he calls into the semi-darkness, but there’s no response. He clears his throat and tries again, voice far too loud for 3 o’clock in the morning as it trembles around her name. He has a complex, internal debate with himself as to whether or not removing his jacket would be considered too forward, somehow insinuating that he expected even _more_ to transpire between them, and has taken it off and then shrugged it back on at least seven times before Tina comes waltzing back into the living room, a small scroll of parchment clutched in her hand.

            “Everything’s all set,” she says brightly, her cheeks a vibrant, rosy red as she offers him a timid smile.

            “So, erm…I suppose I should…” Newt stumbles awkwardly, not quite sure what Tina had meant by _all set_. He notices that she hasn’t brought his suitcase out from her bedroom, and wonders if, perhaps, he should just outright ask–

            “Shall I get my case and head back to the hotel, then?” he mumbles awkwardly.

            Tina’s smile falters for a fraction of a second, until she realizes that it’s not a rejection, but more a matter of manners. She sighs heavily, holding out her hand for Newt to take.

            “Stay here with me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

            Newt perks up immediately, looking rather adorably like a deer caught in headlights. He surveys her expression, eyebrows knit in confusion.

            “Tina, are you quite sure that you want me to…I mean, we’ve both had a fair amount to drink tonight, and I feel as though I’ve already overstepped–”

            “Newt,” she interrupts him gently, lips curving into an amused smile. “Relax. I’m only asking you to spend the night. No expectations, no rushing into anything. Just sleep. Okay?”

            “Okay,” he repeats slowly, lingering over each syllable, but looking visibly less shaken. He pauses for a moment, pursing his lips and mulling it all over in his head.

            “But your sister, she–” he starts again.

            “Is spending the night at Jacob’s,” Tina replies, holding up a folded piece of parchment with curly, looping handwriting scrawled across the surface, a bright pink heart dotting the _i_ in Tina’s name.

            Newt merely nods as a way of response, not quite able to meet her eyes. The seconds stretch on in agonizing silence, and Tina begins to panic, lips quirking downward into a frown.

            “Newt,” she says in a would-be-calm tone, trying desperately not to convey how hurt his hesitation makes her. “Do you _want_ to–”

            “Yes,” he answers, without missing a beat. His voice quavers, barely audible, and his eyes are cast downward in an effort to win the world’s longest staring contest with the floorboards, but there’s the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a quiet little chuckle in surprise at his own eagerness.

            “Yes, I absolutely do,” Newt reaffirms. He chances a look up at her, heart skipping in his chest at the sight of her elated smile.

            “Okay,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief and bowing her head to hide the faint blush that creeps across her cheeks. She closes the distance between them with a few short strides and slips her hand into his. Newt leans in close and rests his chin on her shoulder, staring up at her with the most heartbreakingly beautiful look of adoration in his eyes.

            Tina sighs happily, placing a soft, sweet kiss against his forehead, before taking him by the hand and leading him to her bedroom, giggling when he trips over his own shoes, and gets stuck in the arms of his jacket as he slips them both off and places them on the floor next to her bed. They settle in under the covers, and Newt instantly curls around her, resting his head against her chest and nuzzling in under her chin. Tina smiles and strokes his hair lovingly, fingertips grazing small patches of ginger-blonde stubble along the sides of his face, delighting in the way it elicits an adorable little moan of contentment from him.

           They lay there like that for a few minutes, drinking in the comfortable silence that unfolds between them, a serenade of crickets and dwindling nightlife floating in through the open window, lulling them into a peaceful slumber.

            Tina’s eyes have just barely closed when suddenly, Newt calls out her name.

            “I’ve got to confess something,” he says, his voice thick with sleep. “Ever since I left New York, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

            Tina hums happily as a way of response, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. Newt’s hands tremble as they find hers underneath layers of plushy blankets. He laces his fingers with hers, gently, hesitantly, as though he’s asking for permission. Tina gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, wondering what could possibly be making him so nervous, and resumes lazily stroking his hair.

            “While I was gone,” he says quietly. “I realized that I can’t imagine any sort of future where you’re not in it.”

            Tina pauses mid-caress, eyes fluttering open.

            “I’ve never felt like that about anyone before,” Newt says thoughtfully. “And it’s all a little bit terrifying.”

            Tina can’t help herself. The words are out of her mouth before she can reclaim them.  
            “Not even Leta Lestrange?” she asks anxiously.

            “Who?” Newt says without thinking, genuinely confused for a moment, and then shakes his head.

            “Oh, right. Um…no. Just you,” he replies.

            “ _Oh_ ,” Tina says in a breathless whisper, her heart thundering in her chest.

            “That was a very long time go. It was… _complicated_ ,” Newt adds, feeling the need to elaborate. “This is simple. For once, I don’t have to question how I feel.”

            Tina swallows nervously.

            “And how _do_ you feel?” she asks.

            “Happy,” he says simply.

            “So,” Tina says, shaking her head, bewildered. “So why is that terrifying?”

            “Because it made me realize something very important. I don’t think I’ve ever _actually_ been in love before,” Newt says softly, absentmindedly tracing constellations in the freckles that adorn Tina’s arms. “And I’m fairly certain that I’m falling in love with you.”

            The words spill from his lips so easily, with such unwavering conviction, that it sends chills up and down Tina’s spine, heart swelling in her chest as it skyrockets to her throat.

            “Newt,” Tina gasps softly, an incredulous chuckle escaping her lips as she struggles to come up with the perfect response. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t also been picturing _this_ moment in her head for the past week, building up hope and over-thinking every little detail, imagining exactly what she’d say if Newt ever uttered those three wonderful words to her, dreaming up the most beautiful, romantic response, straight out of a fairy tale novel.

            But now that it’s finally happened, her mind is frustratingly blank.

            The seconds tick by like _years_ as all manner of cheesy, clichéd nonsense pops into her mind, waxing poetic about his soft, pouted lips, and the golden tendrils of his hair. Tina curses her stupid, sleep-deprived brain, and blames that last shot of giggle water she’d had right before they’d left _The Tipsy Pixie_.

            “Newt, I–” she starts again, but this time, she’s met with a string of soft little snores issuing from Newt, the top of his head just visible underneath a mountain of blankets as he snuggles against her side, fast asleep. Tina’s breath hitches in the back of her throat, and she tries her damnedest to stifle a laugh, careful not to wake him. She shakes her head and smiles down at him, a glowing warmth that has nothing to do with giggle water spreading throughout her chest.

            She settles in beside him, closes her eyes, and breathes him in, slowly, languidly, burning the intoxicating scent of him into her memory: sweet and earthy, like wildflowers and worn, leather-bound books, with twists of ginger, mint, and basil; an aromatic infusion of the many magical worlds inside Newt’s suitcase. He smells like comfort, like her favorite reading nook in the library at Ilvermorny that overlooked the gardens; the one place she’d spent most of her time all those years ago. As she drifts off into a comfortable slumber, she realizes that until Newt, nothing and no one had ever felt more like home.


	5. Thunderstorms and Peppermint Tea

            The door to the apartment flies open at a quarter to ten the following morning, and in springs Queenie, humming merrily to herself as she uncovers a plate of leftover pastries from Jacob’s bakery, and puts the kettle on for coffee. At the first whistle, she takes the kettle off the stove and pours three cups of steaming coffee, sprinkling a bit of cream and sugar into her own. Silver tray rattling slightly, she carries the coffee over to her bedroom door and knocks three times, until a grumbling voice on the other side of the door tells her to come in. When she does, she’s met with the all-too-adorable sight of Newt, fast asleep and sprawled out on Tina’s bed, his arms wrapped around her waist in a protective hold, the both of them still clad in their clothes from the night before. Tina groans as she opens her eyes, blinking rapidly against the blinding sunlight.

            “Thought I’d bring you two a little pick-me-up,” Queenie whispers, careful not to wake Newt. “You want me to just leave it on the kitchen table?”

            “That’d be great, Queenie. Thanks,” Tina says quietly, wincing at the sound of her own raspy voice and rubbing at her throbbing temples. “And stop reading my thoughts. You know I’m gonna tell you all about it later.”

            Queenie flashes Tina a mischievous smirk, coffee cups tinkling against the silver tray as she bustles out of the room. Tina glances down at the adorable, sleepy mass stretched out across her lap and can’t help but beam down at him, allowing herself a silly little moment to flail, but regretting it almost instantly as a fresh wave of nausea washes over her. Newt startles awake with a tiny snort, eyes wide and a little red around the edges, grumbling and groaning as he pulls the covers up over his head. Tina rolls her eyes and laughs, snuggling back down beside him.

            “Newt,” she lilts, prodding his shoulder. “Come on, time to get up.”

            “Mmmf,” he argues, his voice muffled as he shoves his face deeper into her pillow.

            This goes on for about five minutes, until eventually, Tina manages to lure Newt out of bed with the promise of a greasy, heart-attack-inducing, hangover-curing breakfast at one of her favorite diners. He’s grumpy and disheveled, his half-unbuttoned waistcoat ridden up around his shoulders and his trousers bunched up around his knees, but the moment he rolls over and catches sight of Tina, with her hair all wild and wavy and her makeup smudged, he can’t help but smile and tell her how beautiful she looks, and how happy he is to have woken up beside her. Tina giggles and blushes in response, mumbling out a quiet _thank you_ and telling him that the horrible hangover she’s got is totally worth the wonderful time she had with him last night.

            As the two of them amble out into the living room half an hour later, freshly showered and marginally more awake, they’re greeted with the delicious scent of baking crescent rolls and sweetened coffee. Queenie dances about the kitchen, whistling a cheerful tune and summoning slices of fruit and chocolate as she decorates her latest confection.

            “Looks like you two had a good time last night,” she teases, throwing Tina a knowing wink. “Although, not _nearly_ as good as me and Jacob, if you know what I mean.”

            Tina rolls her eyes and pelts her sister with a crescent roll.

            “The whole of New York knows what you mean, Queenie,” she says, grabbing a handful of rolls and offering them to Newt, who begins unceremoniously stuffing them into his mouth with a moan of appreciation. Tina laughs and takes a small bite of one herself.

            “Love you. Bye,” she calls after Queenie through a mouthful of hot, flaky bread.

            Filled to the brim with crispy bacon, cheesy scrambled eggs, and more coffee than a college campus during finals week, Newt and Tina make their way down the busy streets of New York, exceptionally more cheerful than they had been an hour earlier. They’re walking along, reminiscing about the lovely time they’d had last night at dinner and _The Tipsy Pixie_ , when they hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance.

            The rain comes out of nowhere, a sprinkling of tiny droplets that quickly escalates into a heavy downpour, drenching their clothes as they laugh in surprise and clamber under a tiny, magically conjured umbrella. They find a little corner shop roof and huddle together underneath it, their breath spiraling out like smoke in the cold spring air. Newt notices that Tina is shivering and coaxes her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her in a feeble attempt to keep her warm as he rests his chin atop her head.

            “I would offer you my jacket,” he says, barking out a laugh. “But as it’s soaked through, I doubt it would do much good.”

            “I appreciate the gesture all the same,” Tina says, pulling back and smiling up at him. “You’re a true gentleman, Mr. Scamander.”

            Newt tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together as he studies her with a guilty expression.

            “I’m really not, though,” he says, frowning at her. Before Tina can ask what he means by that, Newt sighs heavily, looking into her eyes with uncharacteristic solemnity.

            “Tina, about last night, I–” he says, faltering as he searches for the right words. “I shouldn’t have done any of what I did. I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that. I should have–”

            Tina makes a noise like a wounded kitten, her smile fading to a crestfallen frown as her heart drops down into her stomach. For a moment, she thinks she’s going to be sick.

            “Oh!” Newt shouts as he catches sight of her, scrambling to fix the mess he’d just made. “Oh no! No, no, no. Tina, of course I don’t regret it, not in the slightest. I _wanted_ to kiss you, believe me. I _still_ do. It’s just…”

            Newt hesitates, working another nervous hole into the pocket of his vibrant blue overcoat.

            “What I mean to say is…well…I had it all planned out, you see,” he explains hastily. “The first kiss, especially with an extraordinary woman like yourself, is supposed to be perfect. It’s meant to be this big, important moment where I sweep you off your feet, and there’s stars and fireworks…perhaps not literally, although if you’d prefer it, I could attempt to conjure…anyway, I’d built it up into this wondrous, romantic moment inside my head, and then last night, I mucked it all up. I was giddy with nerves and lousy with giggle water and filled with adrenaline because I thought for sure we’d be caught by your landlady, and well, it made my head go all…”

            Newt pauses, hands flailing about as he tries to describe how he felt.   “All…erm… _wibbly_ ,” he finishes lamely, offering her a small, apologetic smile. “And I just…I got caught up in the moment, and I…I mean, I do hope it was good for _you_ , at least, because for _me_ …well, quite frankly, it was amazing…and wonderful…and spontaneous, and you were just so beautiful that I couldn’t help–”

            But the rest of his words are drowned out when a huge splash of rain hits him full in the face, and Tina can’t help but burst out laughing. Newt huffs in frustration and opens his mouth to begin his speech anew, but this time, he’s interrupted by Tina, tugging him toward her by the collar of his jacket and kissing him, right there in the middle of the crowded street. It’s wet and it’s messy and they’re both soaked to the bone from the freezing rain, but as she pulls away, she’s smiling, and Newt can feel a warm, comfortable glow spreading throughout his entire body.

            “Our first kiss was perfect,” she says softly, punctuating that last word with a small kiss against his cheek. “And so was our second.”

            Newt beams down at her, cradling her face in the palms of his hands as he pulls her in for another fervent kiss.

            They walk back to her apartment hand in hand, trading kisses in between crosswalks and crowded queues, hardly caring about the cold as the thunderstorm rages on around them. The rest of their lazy Sunday afternoon is spent surrounded by dusty old books and a pot of magically refilling peppermint tea, sprawled out across the loveseat in Tina’s living room, swapping stories about their schooldays as proud Hogwarts and Ilvermorny alumni, comparing classes and professors and boasting about which castle has the best secret passageways. Newt flips idly through the worn pages of one of Tina’s yearbooks, pausing when he comes across an old photograph of Tina proudly sporting her house sigil in her very first year, and teases her relentlessly as he reads her full name aloud.

            “Call me Porpentina one more time, and I’ll hex you,” Tina laughs, snatching the yearbook out of Newt’s hands.

            “I’d like to see you try,” Newt challenges with a playful smirk. “This Puff’s a lot more skilled at wand-work than you might think.”

            “Never provoke a Thunderbird,” Tina teases with a smug smile, pulling out her wand and brandishing it threateningly.

            Newt jumps up from the couch, shouting, “I take it back! I’ve seen the photographs of you at dueling club. Put that away, Porpentina.”

            Tina scowls, twirling the tip of her wand menacingly.

            “Sorry. I meant _Tina_ ,” he corrects, kissing the tip of her nose in apology.

            “You’re one to talk, _Newton_ ,” Tina teases. “What kind of a middle name is Fido, anyway?”

            “An amusing one,” Newt retorts, and they both collapse into a fit of laughter.

            As the afternoon fades into early evening, and the sky outside darkens from misty grey to a muted midnight blue, the pair of them curl up together under a mountain of blankets with a plate full of Jacob’s fruit tarts, snuggling close as Newt reads his manuscript aloud, punctuating every few lines with an amusing little anecdote.

_“I have visited lairs, burrows, and nests across five continents, observed the curious habits of magical beasts in a hundred countries, witnessed their powers, gained their trust, and on occasion, beaten them off with my travelling kettle.”_

            Tina watches him fondly, laughing at his jokes and asking him questions about his wild adventures, enraptured by his passion and enthusiasm. Amidst reading a paragraph about the effects of a certain type of venom which can make the drinker loopy and open to suggestion, Newt frowns as he comes across a mistake that shouldn’t have gone to print.

            “So sorry,” he says, wand held between his teeth as he whips out a quill and begins crossing out sections, feverishly scribbling new notes into what’s left of the crowded margins.

            “Just have to make a few corrections on the exact symptoms of ingesting this particular type of venom. I suppose they’ll appear in a revised second edition, if I’m lucky.”

            “That’s fine,” Tina assures him, summoning a freshly brewed batch of tea with a casual flick of her wand.

            “After…well, let’s just say an _unfortunate accident_ wherein I ingested the venom in question just a few short weeks ago, thereby experiencing the effects myself, I have a few more detailed notes to make on the subject,” Newt chuckles as he writes _has the ability to make the drinker say things they don’t necessarily mean,_ and then moves on to the next bullet point.

            Tina feels that familiar sinking feeling in the pit her stomach. She’d been trying her damnedest not to think about it all day, convinced herself that if he’d truly meant it, he would have said something about it earlier, during his monologue about wanting to give her the perfect first kiss. To be fair, he’d been out drinking with her all night, and he was half-asleep when he’d said it, so there’s a good chance that he probably didn’t mean it…that he simply got caught up in the moment.

            _Which is fine_ , Tina tells herself even as her heart begins to break, _because it’s way too early to be talking about deep feelings or the future, anyway_. Still, the overwhelming need to _know_ settles in like nettles at the back of her mind, at war with her need for self-preservation. Minutes pass as Tina struggles with an internal debate, wondering whether or not she should simply just _ask_ him if–

            “Newt,” she says suddenly, before she can change her mind.

            Newt hums in response, brow furrowed in concentration.

            “Do you…um…” Tina hesitates, fiddling with a small chip in her teacup. “Last night, when you…um...”

            “Okay,” she sighs. “I’m just going to come right out and ask it, because it’s been bugging me all day. Do you, by any chance, remember what you said to me last night? Because I know sometimes giggle water can make you say or do things that you don’t necessarily mean, and then make you forget those things the next morning, and I just wanted to…oh, I don’t know…make sure I’m not looking too deeply into things here. After all, we haven’t known each other for that long, and I–”

            Newt pauses, quill coming to a halt mid-sentence, and says, “No, I remember everything.”

            “You,” Tina quivers, swallowing nervously. “You do?”

            “Giggle water is a curious substance,” Newt says, chuckling softly. “It does not serve as a love potion, by any means. Although, it does seem to serve as a catalyst of sorts, evoking amorous emotions and desires that are typically hidden just beneath the surface of one’s subconscious. A hedonistic veritaserum, if you will.”

            Tina tilts her head to the side, a tentative smile forming on her lips.

            “For that reason, I tend to avoid it whenever I can,” Newt continues with an encouraging smile. “Butterbeer suits me just fine. But as it was a special occasion, I indulged.”

            Newt finishes the last of his notes, gently places his quill atop his manuscript, and turns to face her. He fixes her with a serious look, adoration etched in every line of his smile.

            “And when I tell someone that I love them, I do not do so lightly,” he says, reaching forward to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Tina blushes and stares down at the teacup cradled in her hands, skin burning beneath his touch.

            “I love you, too,” she says softly, unable to keep a huge, ridiculous smile from spreading across her lips. Before she has the chance to look up, or say anything more, Newt swoops in and kisses her fervently, hands weaving through her hair and gently cupping her face, delighting in the way she laughs when he presses soft, sweet kisses all over the apples of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She doesn’t fall asleep until well after he does, smiling to herself as she smoothes back his hair and watches the steady rise and fall of his chest, his breathing a soothing melody as she settles in beside him and drifts off into a cozy slumber with her head resting against his shoulder.


	6. An Indecent Summons

            “So, tell me again how you got kicked out of your hotel?” Tina laughs, crossing her arms as she leans back against the doorframe and fixes Newt with a curious smile.

            “A niffler-related theft incident, as it were,” Newt replies, hiding his gleeful smirk behind a poorly-crafted mask of solemnity.

            “Full story. Now,” Tina demands, her smile growing wider.

            Needing no further encouragement, Newt delves into the thrilling tale of how his niffler had escaped for what he imagines is the hundredth time now, squeezing under doorways and scurrying down elevator shafts until he’d wound his way into the lobby, stuffed half a dozen grand piano keys and silver coins from the tip jar into his pouch, dismantled the chandelier, and stolen the diamond rings off of several of the guests’ fat fingers. It was only when the hotel staff found Newt wriggling on his belly underneath a coffee table, trying to snatch up a string of pearls belonging to a hysterical elderly woman, and all but wrestling with the niffler so as to give them back to her, that they finally asked him to leave, the resounding crash of the crystal chandelier scattered in a million pieces across the marbled floor leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

            “Well, I wasn’t so much _asked_ as forcibly evicted,” Newt amends, grinning shamelessly, having clearly found the entire affair hilarious. “Do you know, I’ve never actually been carried out of anywhere by the scruff of my collar before?”

            “They _didn’t_!” Tina exclaims, clapping a hand to her mouth.

            “They did, indeed. Still got the marks, in fact,” Newt says, rubbing at a reddened patch on the back of his neck.

            “Oh, you poor thing! Are you…do you need me to–” Tina offers, hand already reaching for her wand, rolodex of healing charms racing through her mind.

            “No, really, you’ve done more than enough,” Newt insists, hazel eyes sparkling with warmth and adoration. Tina smiles sheepishly and bows her head, avoiding his gaze. A loose lock of hair falls out from behind her ear. Newt’s fingers twitch at his sides.

            “Thank you, again, for the accommodations,” he adds, gesturing to his suitcase and bundled-up black and yellow knitted scarf strewn about in a corner of Tina’s bedroom.

            “Oh well, Queenie’s staying over at Jacob’s again,” Tina chuckles and rolls her eyes, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt. “So you’re free to use our room for the night.”

            “That’s very kind of you,” Newt says softly, eyes flitting between the rosy blush of Tina’s cheeks and the inside of her bedroom, with its tidy bookshelves, neatly folded clothes, and cozy blue bedspread.

            “But are you quite certain you don’t mind me sleeping in your bed? Honestly, I would be more than happy to kip on your couch, so as not to be a burden,” he says.

            “You’re not a burden, Newt,” Tina assures him with an affectionate smile, her blush deepening. “I like having you here. Stay as long as you’d like.”

            “Or we could sleep together,” Newt blurts out before he can stop himself. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

            Tina’s eyebrows rise so high they’re practically straddling her hairline.

            “I only meant,” Newt flounders, scrambling for an explanation. “Sorry, it’s just that there are _two_ beds in that room, so from a logical standpoint, it wouldn’t make sense for only one of us to–”

            “Oh, right. Well, I mean… _yes_ , but…we probably shouldn’t, you know, just for the sake of…don’t know how Queenie would feel about…” Tina trails off, the words _unseemly_ and _scandalous_ fluttering around inside her head.

            “No, of course. You’re absolutely right. I’ve no idea what I was thinking. That was very rude of me to just assume it would be alright,” Newt apologizes, bowing his head and staring pointedly at the floorboards, the faintest hint of pink coloring the tips of his ears.

            “It’s okay, Newt, really,” Tina reassures him, her resolve threatening to crumble as she takes in the sight of his humbled expression. “I mean, you’re right. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before. It’s just…that was kind of… _by accident_ , you know? I mean, that whole night was just…I wasn’t thinking clearly…too much giggle water, and…I shouldn’t have been so bold as to…uh…and I mean, you know, it was _late_ , and I couldn’t let you risk splinching yourself, or have to walk back to your hotel all alone…so I figured, you know, it’d be _easier_ if you just stayed here with me, and…uh…

            “ _By accident_ ,” Newt repeats in a low whisper, looking mildly concerned.

            “ _Wasn’t thinking clearly_ ,” he mouths silently, and the look in his eyes is heartbreaking.

            “Oh,” Tina says softly, realizing what she’d just implied. “No, I didn’t mean–”

            “Tina, do you regret–” Newt asks, voice quavering.

            “Of course not,” Tina answers resolutely.

            “Oh,” Newt says, the tension in his shoulders unraveling. “Alright, then.”

            “I just,” Tina says softly. “I guess I’m just scared that if we move too fast, we might ruin this…whatever this thing is between us.”

            Newt’s heart skips a beat as a curious thought occurs to him.

            “Tina,” he says quietly, eyes still fixed to the floorboards. “This…forgive me if I’m assuming or being too forward again, but…is this a relationship? We’re…that is to say, you and I…are we…together…officially?”

            Tina bites her lower lip, stunned to silence by his adorable bashfulness. In that moment, all she wants to do is run forward and wrap her arms around him. Instead, she simply stands there, staring at him with a dazed, disbelieving look on her face.

            Newt’s eyes grow wide.

            “So sorry,” he blurts out, flustered. “I’m not very good with these things. I just thought, perhaps, after I’d told you that I…how I feel about…erm…and when you said it back, I was absolutely delighted, so…I suppose, after last Sunday, I just assumed we were…or rather, I’d _hoped_ that meant you’d want to be my–”

            “Yes,” Tina says quietly, the ghost of a chuckle leaving her lips.

            Newt looks up at her.

            “Really?” he asks, eyes brightening.

            “I’d like that. Very much,” Tina says, in an echo of their last parting.

            “Oh,” Newt says softly, a brilliant smile spreading across his lips.

            “As would I,” he adds. “In fact, nothing would make me happier.”

            “Me too,” Tina says, smiling brightly. “And that’s why I…I mean, it’s only been a couple of weeks since we started seeing each other, but this…you… _us_ …means a lot to me, and I wouldn’t want to just rush into–”

            “No, you’re absolutely right,” Newt says with a small nod. “I completely agree.”

            “It’s just that,” Tina continues, eyes cast downward as she busies her hands with smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on her shirt. “If we were to sleep in the same bed again, so close together and wearing so little, I might–”

            “You might,” Newt coaxes her with renewed confidence, latching onto those unfinished words and looking up at her with a hopeful expression. He takes a small step toward her, closing the distance between them, and Tina involuntarily copies him.

            “Well, I might…you know, I might…not to be able to… _resist_ ,” Tina breathes, each word more muted and reluctantly conjured than the last.

            “I wouldn’t mind,” Newt whispers, failing to hide his giddy expression as he slowly reaches up to caress the side of Tina’s face, finally tucking back that stray lock of hair. Tina’s eyes flutter closed and she leans into his gentle touch, letting his warmth wash over her.

            She holds her breath, torn between what she wants and what she thinks is expected of her. She’s always been the _good_ girl. The girl who _waited_. She’s never been like Queenie, who didn’t care for social etiquette, and just brazenly took what she wanted, when she wanted it.

            Then again, she’s never felt like this before, not with anyone.

            Tina stands there now, staring into Newt’s bright, hopeful eyes, waiting for him to make the first move, to press her up against her bedroom door and kiss her with that same fiery passion that he’d showed her last Saturday night.

            His thumb brushes across her full lower lip, and he sighs.

            “Goodnight, Tina. You’re an absolute treasure,” he whispers, leaning down to press a sweet, chaste kiss to the top of her forehead, before sweeping past her with a swish of his bright blue jacket, and gently closing her bedroom door behind him.

            “Goodnight,” Tina mouths silently, staring at her bedroom door in disbelief. After a few moments, she collects herself, a ridiculous grin spreading across her face as she waltzes over to the linen closet and pulls out a bundle of blankets and pillows for her makeshift bed on the couch.

            Safely concealed behind Tina’s bedroom door, Newt smiles blissfully to himself, letting his mind wander into all manner of tantalizing terrain as he imagines the many things that Tina might not be able _resist_ , were they to find themselves in such close proximity to one another. He hums merrily to himself as he dances about the room, curiously skimming over the titles of the leather-bound books lining Tina’s shelves and marking them down in his memory, before unpacking his suitcase and changing into his sleepwear. He’s stripped down to the bare essentials and carefully folded his trousers and jacket beside his leather boots, when his wand, indelicately grasped between his teeth, slips from his mouth and clatters to the floor.

            It happens instantly. There’s a startled shout, and then the door to Tina’s bedroom bursts open with a loud bang. A whirlwind of powder blue and chocolate brown whips past Newt as Tina is flung backward onto the bed. Before Newt realizes what’s just happened, he’s been hit in the shoulders with a sudden force, like a set of massive, invisible hands shoving him down hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs as he’s propelled forward, the palms of his hands plunging into the plushy mattress to steady himself. Lucky for him, they land ever so carefully on either side of Tina’s head. Newt blinks rapidly, trying to regain some semblance of comprehension as the room tilts back into focus, and he’s met with the comically bewildered expression of Tina, staring up at him, chest heaving rapidly against his.

            “Newt!” she gasps, a shade deeper than crimson creeping across her cheekbones like a summer sunburn as she fixes him with an incredulous stare.

            “Hello, Tina,” Newt replies with an air of feigned indifference, as though this is all perfectly normal. “Fancy meeting…no, sorry.”

            Newt makes an odd sort of choking sound, opening and closing his mouth several times, poised on the edge of any number of _perfectly reasonable_ excuses as to why he’s found himself in this compromising position, each one wilder and less believable than the last. Desperate to avoid Tina’s burning gaze, Newt’s eyes dart downward (a decision he’d like to say he regrets immensely, but alas, that would be a lie.)

            Normally, avoiding eye contact and striking up a staring contest with the wallpaper serves him well. This time? Not so much.

            Newt’s mouth nearly falls open as he glances down between them for a tick longer than is truly appropriate, his breath catching in the back of his throat as he takes in the length of Tina’s slender figure, enrobed in a silken powder blue slip that curls over the curves of her breasts and comes to a halt just a few inches below her thighs. He can feel every inch of her body pressed against him, the way her fingernails dig ever so gently into the scarred skin of his bare chest as she holds him above her.

            He swallows thickly, drinking in every detail of her beauty with unbridled longing, a carnal hunger growling inside his chest, all the wrong parts of him becoming increasingly, painfully aware of just how half-naked the both of them are. His heart thunders in his ribcage, and he wonders if she can feel it beating beneath the palms of her hands, the way it mirrors hers with eerie precision. Wonders if she can feel his–

            _Oh dear_.

            “You…erm,” he trembles, nerves shot to hell. “You look nice. Are these new pyjamas?”

            The absurdity of his question seems to snap Tina out of her reverie, eyes sliding back into focus as she shakes her head and tears her gaze away from his half-naked form, fingertips absentmindedly tracing constellations in the all-too-adorable smattering of freckles that dapple his chiseled chest, circling a crown of fang marks that wind their way down his collarbone and intersect with a set of talon slashes engraved into the curves of his shoulders; macabre souvenirs of his wild adventures.

            “Yeah, thanks,” she says, still a bit breathless, but rapidly coming to her senses. “ So hey, could you, um…maybe get off of me now, please?”

            “Oh my goodness. Yes, of course. I am so sorry,” he exclaims, pressing his palms into the springs of her mattress and launching himself upward and off of her. He runs his fingers through his disheveled mess of ginger hair, mumbles something unintelligible, and then immediately begins pacing the length of the room, collecting various bits of clothing that had exploded out of his suitcase in all of the excitement.

            Tina, still sprawled out on the bed with her elbows propping her up, watches Newt in bemused awe as he attempts to shove his legs through the arms of a dark gray sweater, cursing under his breath as he collides with the floor, clad only in a pair of form-fitting plaid shorts. It takes everything in her not to burst out laughing (whether from actual amusement or giddiness, she isn’t sure.)

            “Hey, Newt?” she asks, voice an octave higher than usual, and still a little unsteady. She sits up straight and curls her legs to one side, smoothing out the wrinkles in her nightgown in a hopeless attempt to cover her bare thighs.

            Newt springs up from the floor, clutching the offending sweater. He can’t bring himself to look at her. Hums as a way of response.

            “You want to explain to me what the hell just happened?” she asks in the same would-be-calm tone of voice, lips curving up into a smirk and head tilted to the side.

            “Oh. Right, yes,” Newt warbles, eyes glued to the floor, hands clasped in front of his unmentionables in a vain attempt at modesty, as he hurtles into a long-winded explanation.

            “Again, so sorry. It’s just…I dropped my wand, you see, and it must’ve gone off…possibly triggered _priori incan_ …anyway, it produced a rather powerful summoning spell…though I’m not entirely sure _why_ , since my last spell was _lumos_ , so that doesn’t make a lick of sense, or answer your question for that matter.”

            Newt shakes his head as if to clear it, and continues.

            “I suppose, if we’re being realistic, we could place blame on the wand itself. Interesting fact, actually…did you know that, according to the history of wandlore, the wand _chooses_ the witch or wizard, rather than the other way round? At least that’s how it works at Ollivander’s. American wands might well be different, I wouldn’t know. We’ll have to have a chat about that sometime. Not _now_ , of course. Erm…regardless, according to legend, wands can sometimes think for themselves, so to speak, and act upon their owner’s desires, particularly if the emotional pull is strong enough to warrant–”

            There’s a sharp intake of breath. Newt pauses, one finger held in the air, and stares at Tina like a deer caught in headlights.

            “The…erm,” he stammers, carrying on in a futile attempt to save face. “Not that I would be so forward as to…I mean, I talk a big game, but when it actually comes down to it, I’m quite shy about… _sexual_ …erm…that is to say, everything of that nature would be entirely up to you, of course, when we…sorry, _if_ we…if you want to, that is…with me…”

            Newt swallows thickly, wincing in embarrassment, and heaves a defeated sigh.

            “Nevertheless, my wand does seem to have acted of its own accord, based on what I was thinking and feeling about you, because, well, _undeniably_ …you’re in this bedroom with me…and I’m…in my pants.”

            Newt glances down at his bare legs in shock, like he’s only just noticed how very naked he is.

            “ _Merlin’s beard_ ,” he gasps. “Tina, I didn’t mean to–”

            “Newt,” Tina says with a nervous chuckle, cutting him off before he can ramble on any more. “It’s okay.”

            “ _We’re_ okay,” she amends, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “We’re just…uh…we’re just gonna pretend that this whole thing never happened, okay? So, yeah. Okay. I’m just gonna get up…and go back out into the living room…and then I’m gonna go to bed with you.”

            “Pardon?” Newt asks with bewildered amusement.

            Tina squeezes her eyes shut and sighs in exasperation, a deep red blush now a permanent fixture on her features.

            “Go to _bed_ ,” she corrects herself with a small shake of her head. “I am going to go to _bed_ …and so are _you_ …is what I meant.”

            “And,” she adds, determinately defiant in the face of her shaken nerves. “And no more accidental summoning spells, got it? If you need me, just call me, or knock on the door or something, like a _normal person_. Okay? You don’t need a summoning spell to make me come for you, Newt.”

            Newt’s eyes grow wide and he bites his lower lip to keep from smiling at what she’d just implied, from bursting out laughing at the hysterical expression on her face as she comes to the same realization.

            “Oh my _god_ ,” she says, looking positively scandalized. “ _To_ you, I meant _to_ …you know what? Never mind. I’m just gonna stop talking now. Goodnight, Newt.”

            Without another word or a backward glance, Tina hops up from the bed and whisks away to the living room, a flash of pastel blue whipping around the doorframe. Newt waves her off silently, unable to reign in the impish grin that spreads across his face the moment she’s out of sight. With a heavy sigh and a painful grown, Newt tucks the palms of his hands over the rapidly-growing bulge in the front of his shorts, and awkwardly ambles off to bed.

 

• • •

 

            A couple of hours later, there’s a knock on the bedroom door, and Newt startles awake to find Tina staring down at him, frowning.

            “What’s happening? Is everything alright?” Newt asks, groggy and confused, but not at all displeased to see her.

            Tina shushes him impatiently and says, “I’m cold. Budge over,” with grumpy brevity, before climbing into bed and curling up beside him.

            Not daring to question his good fortune, Newt settles in besides her, a satisfied smile lighting up his face as Tina rests her head against his chest and pulls the covers all the way up to her chin. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, kissing the top of her head as he does so, and absentmindedly runs his fingers through the length of her hair. Within seconds, she’s fallen fast asleep, the steady rise and fall of her chest lulling him into a cozy, comfortable slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who liked, commented, and bookmarked! You guys are awesome <3


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